


The Smallest Outlaw

by Faul_T_Wiring



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: G/T, Giant/Tiny, No Plot/Plotless, Ollie is the token dumbass, RDR2 G/t, TINY - Freeform, ahh I can't tag, it follows the story, just a tiny outlaw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 07:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faul_T_Wiring/pseuds/Faul_T_Wiring
Summary: After mysteriously waking up shrunk, Ollie winds up in Colter and is discovered by the notorious Van Der Linde gang.There are no instructions on what to do when taken by a gang of giant outlaws.
Kudos: 3





	1. That’s Snow Way to Go

**Author's Note:**

> This had been dinging around my head like a Windows Screensaver icon. I've put it on Tumblr, now I'm putting on here.
> 
> Just in case you're wondering, this is what happens when a medicated G/t trash nerd plays Red Dead Redemption 2 while a global pandemic is raging.
> 
> Still debating if it should be a rewrite or a fix-it
> 
> Tags and r/ships would be added if I can think of them

Few mornings have ever made me wake up and immediately swear. Although there’s a difference between muttering it and shouting it.

Fortunately, I wasn’t using a blanket, but my formerly small bed now stretched out before me. I consider what to do. Given that this town already cannot tolerate me, I’m going to get away from here. I slide onto the floor via the messed-up blanket.

I finally get to the door then pause. I have not thought past this point. I suppose I can hitch a ride out of here. I shuffle under my door then spot a slightly open one. Creeping closer, I see a man packing hurriedly. Perfect. I wait until he’s distracted before climbing into his satchel. Wherever he’s going has to be better than this muddy dung-heap.

Dammit, it’s fricking freezing. I’m huddled in the bottom of the satchel, shivering. The man whose satchel this is, is not only an O’Driscoll, but is heading up into the snow. I contemplate if I should risk wolves and snow going back to warmer areas or freezing cold and potential discovery by a gang of killers. It’s too cold to think.

I’m jolted out of my cold stupor by a violent rocking motion. The man I can hear is trying to calm his horse. That ends up being useless as he gets bucked off. I’m tossed out of his satchel as he hits the ground. A sharp pain shoots through my arm as it lands at a bad angle. I see the man leap to his feet and run after his horse. The horse quickly calms down with its owners’ reassurances. The man jumps on his horse and rides off.

Oh great. I’m alone in the snow, up a mountain. I try to sit up, but my arm flares up in pain. Okay…this just became difficult. I manage to stand up with some trouble and survey my surroundings. I recognise the signs of an oncoming blizzard, but I can see a few irregular shapes standing out in the snow. I have nothing to lose by seeing what they are. I begin the long trudge to inspect them.

My delight at discovering a small mining town is diminished when I realise that, aside from being abandoned, I have only delayed freezing to death. Despite exhaustion taking over, I make it to the nearest building and take shelter under a dilapidated bed.

My foggy mind vaguely registers distant voices. My body decides that sleep is the priority and drifts back off. 

At least until my surroundings shake. The broken door swings open, letting an icy blast through. My shivering quickens. I see a pair of towering boots stomp into the room. The door is shut as I see snow fall from the new arrival. My breath stops as I notice the boots head towards my shelter.

I softly exhale in relief when the owner of the boots turns around. The wood above me creaks slightly at the extra weight as the person sits down. Dust sprinkles down at the movement.

As much as I try, I can’t contain my impending sneeze. Even covering my mouth and nose with the elbow of my uninjured arm doesn’t quieten it.  
“Bless you,” a male’s voice above me mutters with a slightly humorous tone.  
“Thank you,” I automatically reply, before immediately slapping my hand over my mouth.  
‘Dammit, Ollie,’ I mentally chide myself.  
The bed above me creaks as the person stands. The boots turn around and one moves back so a knee drops down. I close my eyes as I see the other knee drop.

After a short time of no sounds, I slowly open my eyes. A massive leather gloved hand is directly in front of me. I give a yelp and stumble backwards, whimpering as pain shoots through my arm. I collide with another leather surface. Before I can react, both of the giant hands close over me. I try to punch them, but hell, I don’t think he can even feel it. I brace as I feel the hands move, giving a stifled yelp as they move upward rapidly.


	2. Hurt Snow Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't summarise for toffee. 
> 
> D:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will take suggestions though. For further ideas and how to summarise...anything really.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy

That was a record time from death by the exposure to the unknown by discovery. Now I’m encased in a giant’s hands with no idea who he is and what he means to do. I don’t think my injured arm makes either option easier.

Light trickles through as the huge hands open. I try to back away from the lined face that now fills my vision, but I hit leather clad fingers. I can only huddle into myself in fear.  
“Are you alright?” he asks, gently.  
Confused, I look up at him. Silver hair and dark eyes that seem both kind and clever, but there’s no malice in his expression.  
“Can you understand me?” he asks after a pause.  
I nod slowly. I carefully unfold my legs from my huddled position, quickly pulling them back in when the cold hits me.  
“My God, you’re freezing,” the man exclaims softly.  
He tips me into one hand and uses his other to unfurl his scarf then wraps me up in it before I can even think about escaping him. In one massive stride, he is already at the door, nudging the door open with his foot. On seeing me flinch when the door opened, he pulls his coat over me then walks outside. He doesn’t remove it until I hear another door shut. I catch sight of a small fire struggling to burn in a dusty fireplace. The man sits down on a chair in front of the feeble embers and places me on his knee. I could escape but bundled up in his scarf makes that impossible. Even if I wasn’t tangled up, the jump from his knee would be fatal, or break another limb at the very least. Although my lack of movement range doesn’t stop me from trying to escape from his massive hand approaching me from one side.  
Instead of making a grab at me, the hand stays flat, moving up and down rapidly against the scarf and myself, trying to warm me up.   
I tolerate it until he accidently touches my injured arm. I give a hiss of pain and shirk away. The man stops and unravels the scarf from around me with a concerned look, which only deepens when he sees me holding my wounded limb.  
“Can you take your coat off?” he asks.  
I consider this and then attempt to remove my coat. With one arm, it is painful enough that I give a muffled yelp.  
“Do you trust me enough to help you?” he asks, raising his free hand slightly.  
I shake my head, look at my arm, then back at the man and nod.  
“Hosea, who are you talking to?” a new voice demands.  
The owner of the voice enters the room. He has a black slicked back hairstyle and neatly trimmed facial hair. Despite a tired face, he still exhibits a commanding air.  
“What are you doing back…oh?” the new man finally sees me.  
“What have you got there, Hosea?” he grins, striding towards the man currently holding me by my coat, preventing me from getting anywhere.  
“I’m not quite sure, Dutch. It’s cold and wounded, I know that much,” Hosea responds.  
“Anything I can do?” the dark-haired man, Dutch, asks, his grin leaving his face as he crouches down to my level.  
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest from fear. One giant directly in front of me that I can see every feature of his face, while held in the hands of another.  
“Not until I find out the extent of the injury,” Hosea gives my coat a tug, startling my mind back into the current situation.  
I pull my working arm out of the sleeve easily, then with difficulty, ease my injured limb from out of the other one.  
“What about your shirt?” Hosea asks, placing my coat, which seems no more than a rag in his hand, into his pocket.  
I think about this, then grab my knife and slice my sleeve up to the shoulder, before sheathing the knife. Hosea puts his hand next to me. The combination of the movement and the scale difference makes me give a start of fright.  
“It’s alright. Come on, let’s get a closer look at that injury,” he whispers in a reassuring tone.  
I take a few breaths to steady my nerves and hobble onto the massive palm before me, losing balance a bit as he lifts his hand up towards his face.   
“Can you hold out your arm?”  
I grab my upper arm to move it without touching the lower, injured part. It fails utterly, pain shooting though the limb. I flinch back from his other hand appearing suddenly close to my injured arm.  
“It’s okay, I won’t harm you. I ask that you trust me to help you,” he holds my hand between his thumb and forefinger.  
“This might hurt a bit,” he warns.  
I reluctantly nod and take a deep breath as he uses his hand to straighten out my arm. I try not to wince in pain as he inspects my injured limb.  
“Hmm, looks broken. May be fractured. What do you think, Dutch?”  
Dutch inspects my arm.  
“Definitely damaged to the bone. How do we treat it?” he looks back up to his friend.  
Hosea hums in thought before turning to Dutch.  
‘Go wake Arthur. See if he has anything we could use a bandage. We’ll use a matchstick as a splint”   
Dutch stands up and goes to another room to get Arthur. I hear some talking distantly, then Dutch reappears.  
“Arthur’s seeing if he can find something,” Dutch says, taking a matchbox from his pocket.  
He takes a match from it then crouches down and compares the matchstick to my arm.  
“Are we splinting the whole limb or just the injured part?” he turns to Hosea.  
“Hmm, we’ll splint the whole arm until we find out more,” the older man answers.  
“’ey Dutch, I found some ribbon,” a new voice mutters tiredly.  
The speaker is a broad-shouldered man in a blue coat. His eyes are a mix of green and blue, but he looks like he’s constantly receiving bad news.  
“Thanks son,” Dutch replies, taking the ribbon.  
“What’ch’a got there?” is Arthur’s question when he notices me.  
“An injured…creature?” Dutch’s last word is uncertain.  
Arthur crouches down as well. Having my personal space invaded, I try to back away from the three giants. My arm burns with pain as its slides off Hosea’s hand, making me hiss in response.  
“Dutch, you restrain it. I’ll take care of the arm,” the older man orders.  
Dutch’s black woollen gloves scoop me off Hosea’s hand before I can protest. Woollen fingers close partially around me but leave my injured limb sticking out.  
“I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt a lot,” Hosea warns as I see him stand up.  
“Hosea knows what he’s talking about. I speak from experience,” I hear Arthur laugh.  
Somehow, that isn’t reassuring to me. I feel huge fingers grab my arm, but I can’t see much as it’s manhandled around. I shove my shirtsleeve from my uninjured arm into my mouth to stop myself reacting to the pain. All I can see are two towering giants looming over me. Even though they haven’t made any hint that they are going to harm me, my heart still pounds almost painfully.   
“Should’ve knocked ‘em out with whiskey,” I hear Dutch’s deep laughter practically echo around me.  
“Don’t tempt me,” Hosea replies.  
I look up at him to see him smirking at the other man, then promptly turns back to treating my arm.  
Whether it’s the cold, the pain, or the sheer overwhelmingness of the situation I have found myself in, the world seems to spin uncontrollably, then goes black.


End file.
